


Balm

by alittlebriton



Series: Tentacletober [3]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil Has Tentacles, Cecilos Fluff, M/M, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-15 10:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20864585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebriton/pseuds/alittlebriton
Summary: Prompt: Injured tentaclesOne of Cecil's tentacles gets injured, and Carlos learns a few new things about his boyfriend.





	Balm

**Author's Note:**

> My first Night Vale fic! I love these two so so much. 
> 
> This is set towards the start of their relationship.

“Does it hurt?” Carlos peers over the rim of his glasses and Cecil stares dreamily back at him. “Ceec. Cecil. Babe. Does it hurt?”

Cecil shakes himself out of his reverie, blinks eyes dark and wide as the moonless sky, and jerkily nods. “Oh! Oh yes, darling Carlos. It does indeed hurt. But I would need to get a permit from City Council to truly indulge in moaning, crying and cursing the elder gods before 10pm, and then I’d need to get another permit for the blood sacrifice to apologise to the elder gods for cursing at them, and considering the blood sacrifice is a pound of flesh anyway, it will lead me right back to OW, Carlos, yes that hurts!” Cecil glares at him momentarily when Carlos pokes at the severed end of his tentacle, which shivers and retreats away from Carols’ probing finger.

“And your presence is a balm, of course.” Cecil adds hastily when Carlos raises an eyebrow at Cecil, unused to hearing any tone other than adoration directed at him. “Which is also why I’m not crying.”

Carlos has never actually seen Cecil cry, unless you count the tears of rage when Carlos first got his hair cut here. His hair now falls in waves to his shoulder-blades and he wears it with the ease of someone who is aware he’s literally saving a life.

“We should probably bandage it up,” Carlos says, brushing his hand over the injured tentacle at the base, where it connects to Cecil’s body, the appendage thick and muscley and strong enough to hold a man up. Carlos knows this from sweet, sweet experience. He also knows that Cecil’s tentacles have a mind of their own and often flow around Cecil when he talks and moves and cups Carlos’ face or curves around him in bed, and to see them tense and unmoving now gives Carlos a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“It was my own fault,” Cecil groans, his long fingers pale as they clench the kitchen table, steadying himself against the sting of the iodine Carlos applies to the wound. “I forgot my own warnings about the carrier seagulls that the Sheriff’s Secret Police have trained for civilian reconnaissance. Oh!” His hand flutters to his mouth in shock. “I do hope that seagull doesn’t choke on my tentacle. That would be very embarrassing and I’m sure it would be cause for re-education.”

“Mmmm,” Carlos hums, only half listening. He’s examining the end of the tentacle, peering at it. It already looks better, the tip flushed slightly, a deeper lavender than normal. “Ceec,” he begins as he wraps gauze around the end and secures it with medical tape.

“Yes, perfect Carlos?”

“Do you… heal faster than normal?”

“Carlos! Are you making fun of me?” Carlos looks up and gets distracted by the sight of Cecil biting his mouth, burying two rows of triangular teeth in his plush bottom lip. Cecil looks like he’s about to burst, his eyes wide, reflecting Carlos’ own startled face back at himself.

“I’ve never had any complaints before, despite what you might have heard! My healing rates are completely normal according to my size and origin. One hundred days! I’m an average one hundred days!” Cecil is practically bristling, his shoulders tense. The injured tentacle waves mournfully and hides underneath Carlos’ hand.

“Ceec. Shush, it’s ok, babe. You can be an average if you want. I just asked because it looks like this little one is already on the mend.”

“…oh.” Cecil slumps a little back into his chair. “Well of course it is, silly. How would we be able to live if we didn’t start the regeneration process right away?”

“Regeneration process?” Carlos echoes.

“Oh, you’re going to tell me that your’s don’t grow back?” Cecil scoffed. “Honestly, it’s like you think I’m newly hatched or something. I know I’m young, but I’m not an idiot!”

“I know you’re not,” Carlos says automatically, still trying to wrap his head around regenerating tentacles. It shouldn’t take too long. He’d managed to accept the tentacles fairly quickly, after all.

“I thought you might be making fun of me,” Cecil adds bashfully. “I used to be the slowpoke of my class at school. Everyone else could practically have a new limb by the weekend after their pubescent shedding, and mine took a good two months to fully grow in.”

“Shedding,” Carlos echoes.

“Yes. Oh, beautiful Carlos, are you feeling alright? You look very pale.” Cecil’s face creases with concern, and his tentacles rise up to pull Carlos into Cecil’s lap, curling round him for comfort, the injured one slyly wrapping around his wrist and curling its bound tip into his palm. He instinctively curves his hand around it to protect it and Cecil shudders delightfully underneath him.

“I’m fine, Ceec. I’m mostly worried about you.”

“Oh, don’t be!” Cecil’s eyes go wide again but there’s a glint in them like a faraway comet coming closer. “I’m already feeling much better,Carlos. Much, much better.” He leans in to nuzzle at Carlos’ throat, and Carlos feels one of his other tentacles snake up the back of his shirt to wrap over his shoulder.

“See, I told you your presence was a balm,” Cecil tells him, and closes his eyes, now full of galaxies, to lean in for a kiss, his heart luminescent underneath his skin and beating only for Carlos, glowing through his tunic.


End file.
